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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494689">Still Alive, Still Whole, Still Loved</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch'>RussianWitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Discovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Introspection, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:40:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Small piece of lazy morning fluff.<br/>Part of Challenge given in the Small/Medium Fandoms, Pool Noodles, Dinghies, and Tugboats FB group</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christopher Pike/Ash Tyler | Voq</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fandoms Challenge 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Still Alive, Still Whole, Still Loved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not Beta'd</p><p>Week three challenge: write a fandom you haven't written before.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leave has never been a thing Chris particularly enjoyed.</p><p>Idle hands were devil’s tools his father occasionally muttered in jest but the notion stuck.</p><p>“I can hear you thinking,” Ash huffs, rolling to flop half onto Chris’ chest. Half-awake, his words slur into a guttural growl.</p><p>Chris can’t resist burying his fingers in Ashe’s hair pulling at the pelt and scratching at the nape until the younger man makes a sound that is almost a purr.</p><p>“A month's leave,” Chris says, or possibly moans pathetically, not that he’ll ever admit it.</p><p>Ash chuckles, his beard scratches annoyingly—except he has missed it.</p><p>Five years down the road, Chris finds himself used to—company, to closeness.</p><p>“Want me to find a secret mission for you?” Ash asks nuzzling at the crook of Chris’ neck.</p><p>Chris—considers it much to his own chagrin.</p><p>“It’s not that I don’t want—,” Ash’s fingers on his lips are warmer than human, familiar and comfortable, special.</p><p>“I know, that’s why we’re going sailing.” Throwing a leg over Chris’ Ash pushes closer making a space for himself between Chris’ legs. “You can captain,” he mutters against Chris’ throat, rocking against him lazily.</p><p>It feels good, Chris thinks, the weight of Ash, the smell and sound of him. He has missed waking up next to someone, as much as he loves the expanse it weighs on him more with every passing year.</p><p>After every furlough with Ash it becomes harder and harder to leave. </p><p>“Come on! Or I’ll make breakfast!” Ash threatens with a short, filthy kiss that gets Chris out of his head nicely. </p><p>If there is one thing he’s learned, is never to let Ash cook. </p><p>As human as Ash looks...his taste buds—Chris shudders remembering the things he unsuspectedly pulled out of Ash’s fridge.</p><p>They’ve compromised.</p><p>Chris cooks when he’s there, not necessarily Earth food but things they can both eat. </p><p>How Ash manages to get gagh on to the planet, Chris doesn’t even want to know, though the blood wine he’s developed an appreciation for. </p><p>Not that that solves the problem of breakfast.  </p><p>Omelets seem the safest bet, one with an eye-watering amount of tabasco and another with spinach. While he’s pouring them into pans Ash wanders in, washed, and dressed knocking into him on his way to the coffee machine. He huffs ignoring the challenge and sign of affection finishing up their meal. </p><p>Blindingly strong coffee in hand, Ash sets the small table on the narrow balcony so they can watch the gulls wheeling above the golden tinted waters.</p><p>Chris knows he could have this regularly, Ash is on Earth more often than not, it’s Chris himself who gallivants around the galaxy. He could take the promotion that’s been stalking him since the incident with the Discovery.</p><p>Leave his ship, take one step closer to—</p><p>Ash’s hand on the nape of his neck is warm and strong.</p><p>The wind brings with it the cries of seagulls and the salt from the waves. </p><p>Today Chris is still alive, still whole, still loved.</p>
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